Our Last Tradition
by Mei Vir D. Ripper
Summary: There was once a time when he had looked forward to such trivial traditions because it had mattered to her. But now, such rituals meant less to him. This would be his last ritual. There would be no more.


**A/n:** It's finally Christmas! YAY! And since it's the day of happiness everywhere, I am compelled to make everyone cry blood. -insertevillaughterhere- Still written for the Advent Calendar Project and the last theme I've taken - Tradition.

Special thanks to Honey-bee for being a wonderful beta! Merry Christmas to you, my dear girl! :D

**Song recommendation:** In the Rain acoustic version by Limit

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Eyeshield 21. /sobbu

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><p><strong>o0o<strong>

_'How long has it been since I last saw you? How long was it since I last spoke with you and held your soft, gentle hands? I can't remember. Time - that fucking bastard - just passed by so fast.'_

Chilly winds, soft carols, delicious apple pies, and good cheer reverberated throughout the place; people of all ages passed by with gifts in hand, chattering and greeting each other a merry time for the on-going season. A lone figure sat out of the way of it all, his attentive green eyes surveying the spectacle in front of him as pairs of lovers subtly displayed their love for each other. He wanted to puke and roll his eyes out. Back then, he would have probably crept up behind the said pairs and shown them some blackmail material that would have guaranteed a new set of slaves to do his every bidding; which would have quickly prompted a sharp thwack to the back of his head, a pair of glaring sapphire eyes, a familiar sweet scent of creampuffs, and a stern voice of reason.

He furrowed his brows at the familiar longing now plaguing his heart, like an annoying buzzing fly that just wouldn't go away. Common people would have laughed and shook their heads if they had known; Hiruma Yoichi – once infamously referred to as the Commander from Hell – had a heart. That would have been the greatest lie among lies. But to those who knew him, _really_ knew him, they would simply smile – and be partially scared – that indeed, he did possess a heart. A heart that was quite guarded. A heart that was only deeply touched by one person.

He sighed. These kinds of thoughts were never good, especially during this time of an already overly-emotional season. Slowly rising from the park bench he had previously occupied, he tilted his head to the now darkened sky. Small amounts of snow gently descended from the heavens above.

_'Beautiful, aren't they?'_ a voice softly whispered.

"Yeah...," he answered softly. "But it's not you."

**o0o**

Loud merry voices and laughter greeted Hiruma as he entered the warm house. His hands felt frozen after walking outside in the freezing cold without wearing his gloves. But he didn't care: he liked the feeling, for at least, he still felt them. Removing his shoes, he noted several other pairs neatly lined up in front of the alley's porch step. '_Must be them_,' he thought, removing his coat and scarf. '_And they're already fucking noisy._'

He knew that once the people currently occupying the living room found him, they would jump at him and drag him along to join in with their merry making. He wanted nothing less but to be left alone and sleep inside his own room. But things didn't go exactly his way; fate was against him, and so was a certain someone.

A blonde, curly-haired little girl popped out from behind the living room's door and squealed in delight upon seeing him.

"Granpa!" shouted the bubbly little girl, who ran towards the ex-quarterback without a moment's hesitation. He sighed irritably at how soon he had been caught, as he was only halfway up the first steps when his granddaughter threw herself against his legs and hugged them tightly.

"Yoh, Fucking Chibi," he chuckled despite his irritation. He rumpled the girl's hair lovingly while he waited for the other people from the room to reveal themselves.

"Mou..," said a female voice in exasperation. "You should have informed us that you were already home, Daddy."

"Hey, Dad," another voice greeted, followed by a chorus of: "Welcome home, Hiruma-san!"

Hiruma watched as his daughter folded her arms across her chest in irritation, and grinned. Shiori was the splitting image of her mother, with the exception of her green eyes and slightly pointed ears, which was taken from him. She was a successful market managing consultant in one of those high-end companies in New York, and the loving mother of a highly energetic child – the one currently clinging to his right leg.

"Keh. Don't want to fucking bother your sweet, fun talks," Hiruma answered mockingly. Toothy grin held in place, his eyes darted to the man standing beside his daughter, and whose hand was comfortably placed at her waist. His eyes narrow slightly at the gesture before shifting his gaze to the rest of the visitors.

'_Behave_,' her voice reminded him with some amusement. '_He has his rights as her husband, you know_.'

He rolled his eyes at the reprimand. It had been a while since he last saw them, but every time he did, the feeling of wanting to throttle his daughter's husband would creep to the surface. But despite everything, the fellow was able to show Hiruma that he was capable of standing up to him because of his love for her. And for that sole reason, he was allowed to marry the Hell Commander's only daughter. Kaede, the fucking shrimp's son, was all grown up and was now following the same path that his father had once ran before.

'_No, you saw them last year_," a voice reminded him, and then chuckled. '_Also, stop cursing. You never learn, do you?_' He clicked his tongue to reprimand the voice but his daughter's sermon brought him back to where he was.

"…you know how important it is that we hold these dinners during Christmas Eve. It's tradition!" Shiori ended her lecture with a glare towards her father. Hiruma merely waved off her ramblings: he was used to it all by now. With his marriage to _her mother_, every single day was filled with all kinds of sermons – from his cursing, to his blackmailing, to his gun shooting. Contrary to popular belief, he never had that same leisure of doing everything he wanted from the moment he met _her_.

"Stop sounding like your mom," Hiruma teased her daughter. Slowly, he lifted his granddaughter, who had been clawing her way up his arms. "Where's your brother?"

"And there's also THAT!" Shiori continued to rant, "Shinichi knows more than anything else that he's supposed to be here during this time, and he calls me up with a crappy excuse that he has something he needed to do! As if he can't let some fuc- I mean – someone _else_ to do it for him." She tried to hide the blush creeping up her cheeks at her slip up.

Hiruma's grin grew bigger. If there was one thing he was most proud of with his children, besides the fact that they inherited his calculating mind, was their habit of cursing. He laughed with mocking glee during those times when his wife used to straighten up the tongues of their children. The ironing worked. But bad habits die hard as they would always say. With a father that cursed all the time, it was a short bit of a miracle that they weren't all cursing at people - and at other things - with rapid velocity.

The clock chimed loudly, which marked the arrival of midnight. Hot cups of both chocolate and coffee were being served by Shiori as Hiruma silently patted his granddaughter's head, which lay sleeping on his lap.

The husband was deeply engrossed in a football discussion with the rest of the ex-Devil Bats team members. During normal circumstances, Hiruma would have joined any discussion about American football, but for now, he felt content listening to their own insights on different teams playing at the high school division and national league.

'_Why not join them?_' asked the voice again. He answered, staring at the soft fire crinkling inside the hearth.

"Nah. I've had my fair share of American football for the last five decades," he smiled. "'Sides, I'm tired. And my legs are starting to get numb."

He carefully carried his sleeping granddaughter in his arms, and signaled for his daughter to let him carry the little girl to her room. Without making too much noise, Hiruma left the room and headed towards the stairs, the smile not leaving his features as his gazed fondly at the sleeping child in his arms.

'_She's so beautiful_,' she whispered in his ear.

"I know," he agreed.

_'She'll definitely give her parents a run for their money_,' the voice giggled.

Chuckling, he carefully opened a door, which revealed a room filled with all kinds of stuffed animals seated at the foot of a small bed. It had once belonged to Shiori when she was younger, but was now used as his granddaughter's bedroom whenever they visited the country. He slowly lay her down on the bed, careful not to wake her up. "I would definitely enjoy watching that fucking chibi boy crush all of his daughter's would be suitors."

Hiruma could feel his wife smiling lovingly at their granddaughter. _'Ah, yes. You definitely would.'_

He released a tired sigh, as there were still things he had to do before this blasted time of the year ends. He could feel the weight of the thing sitting inside his left pocket. It was something she always did during this time, albeit, she did try hard to be as inconspicuous as possible, knowing that he would tease her endlessly.

_'Hey, it wouldn't be complete if we didn't do __**that**__. And you liked it, anyway.'_

Hiruma sniggered. He felt her pout. And it was as if time had once again brought him back to the time when it was just the two of them together. And he felt breathless.

The clock had chimed. It was past midnight. The people throughout the house were busy merry-making and so didn't take notice of the lone figure silently walking out onto his front door step. Despite the freezing cold weather, he trotted down the snow piled pathway towards the place that held memories of him and her together. He walked with silent conviction.

**o0o**

He closed his eyes momentarily. How long had it been since he had felt this desolate before? There was once a time when he had looked forward to such trivial traditions because it had mattered to _her_. But now, such rituals meant less to him. Even winning the Christmas Bowl back in the olden days became incomparable to it. And as time continued to pass, the blurring colors of green, red, and gold had turned into the dull color of white and gray.

And as the old blonde demon sat silently at their usual bench beside the large football field, he took out that small piece of green – almost yellowish – plant with its three red cherries tied tightly to each other at the center of it. He held it up just above his head and gazed at the dark sky.

"You know what this is, Fucking Manager," he smirked. "And I better get a fucking good one..."

Slowly closing his eyes, he felt that same feeling of warmth that coursed through him the moment their lips met: that same fuzzy feeling that sends warmth throughout his body and shivers down his spine. He knew he might just be hallucinating it due to old age disease or whatever. But he didn't care. Because he knew that this would be his last traditional ritual for this season. This would be his last ritual... ever. There would be no more.

No more, that is, until he was with her again.

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><p><strong>An:** Anyone wants tissues? 8D Ohhh... And don't forget to leave a review, alert or fave on this. I wanna know if I managed to achieve my evil objective. Hohoho! Merry Christmas!


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